Tale of the Hero Mertens
by Yrmbe
Summary: Cursed to be consumed by a demon at the age of 17, Finn Mertens travels from his paradise homeland to distant lands in search of a cure.
1. The Old King

**The Old King**

Atop the old mountain, beneath its crowning peak, caked in snow and age, is the oldest king. He is older than any king around, than most people around today, and his home is flooded with treasures and artifacts telling of his long and lonely life. He enjoys his quiet life in solitude, and most people are respectful enough to honor his wish, but every now and then people make their way to the mountain. Now each person had their own reasons, for some it was to gain wisdom, others had curiosity, but the King's favorite reason was to hear a story. A person as old as he had many stories to tell, but the stories he would always come back to always centered around a young hero a long time ago, back when the King himself was just a child. If one asks politely, maybe after a cup of tea or a gift of flowers, he just might tell the tale of the Hero Mertens.

Far away, from the troubles of this land, lay the Isle of Man, towards the rising sun, past stormy seas and dragons of the ocean, behind its watchful guardian. The Isle was a quaint place, inhabited by a nervous, clever, and quiet people. The Isle was ruled not by throne nor sword, but by the gentle hands of the White Bear clan. The White Bear clan were all healers, dedicated to the craft, steadfast in their oath, and deeply caring for all under their watch, but none of their number were as great as Minerva. Minerva, who was like a mother to all, who's honeyed words and tender eyes could hold sway over the entire isle, who was loved and trusted by all. Almost all.

A witch struck a deal with a demon and set a plague upon the isle. The plague swallowed whole all it touched, but none more so than those of the White Bear, who faced the sickness day after day, working tirelessly to stifle its growth, were all but wiped out. Minerva, with all her cunning, was able to end the plague before it ended her too. Before she could confront the witch that cursed her people, the Witch cursed Minerva herself.

"In 16 years, a demon will swallow your child whole, until nothing but grass and weeds remain!" the witch bellowed before storming out to sea, never to be seen again.

Minerva, with the weight of her people on her lone shoulders, was now faced with the fate of her child. Soon, he was born, doomed to be snatched away from life too soon.


	2. The Curse

**The Curse**

Far away, from the troubles of this land, lay the Isle of Man, towards the rising sun, past stormy waters and dragons of the sea, behind its watchful guardian. The Isle was a quaint place, inhabited by a nervous, clever, and quiet people. It was ruled not by throne nor sword, but by the gentle hands of the White Bear clan. The White Bear clan were all healers, dedicated to the craft, steadfast in their oath, and deeply caring for all under their watch. However, none of their number were as great as Minerva. Minerva was neither the most cunning, nor the strongest, nor the most skilled as many of her number could take those claims, but she had the most important quality of all of them: She was the most caring. Now, to some of you, caring doesn't seem that special, especially in the face of those previous qualities, but being the strongest, the smartest, or the most skilled would be useless for others if you didn't care enough to use it, and Minerva cared a lot. The young to the old, the sick to the spry, from the most righteous souls to the most rotten heart, all were under her care. She loved and cared for them all dearly and equally, until the day she fell in love.

"So what are you, a con artist or something, like a trickster?" Minerva asked

"Hah! You make it sound so glamourous. No, I'm just a man at the wrong place at the wrong time." Martin answered

"But if you had to, how would you trick me?" She posed

"I'd trick you into going out with me." He teased

Martin was a scoundrel, a liar, and an overall dishonorable man and at any other time, he would be taking advantage of Minerva's kind heart. But this time was different, this time something changed. Now Martin the scoundrel was also neither the smartest, nor the strongest, nor the most skilled, much like Minerva. But he wasn't the most caring either, he could care less about, others at times, except with her. For the first time in his life, he cared about someone else. He would take her out to eat, she would help bail him out, he would fix his life, she would make sure he kept his promise, and they both would be there for each other. Born from this love came their golden sweet child Finn. Life was sweet for the family, content with living out their humble lives, undisturbed. But the hands of fate had different plans, for the Isle of Man held dark secrets within.

Across the waters, just a stone throws away from the house of Mertens, dwelled Doctor Gross, a wise and sick mind who sought the power of life. Through her work, she twisted the body, spliced it apart, and crafted creatures of disturbing imagery, but she worked for the benefit of the Isle and so was left undisturbed and unchecked. Among her most ardent critics was Minerva and her people, who saw Doctor Gross' work as perversion of their practice and of life itself.

The doctor's work only grew stranger, more terrible, more horrifying as she progressed in her arrogant quest for power, culminating in the unleashing of a plague upon the people. It crept upon the isles, smashing apart the quaint life that the people once knew and killed thousands. But the White Bear clan, who faced the plague every day, suffered the most. One by one, day after day, they succumbed to sickness until only Minerva was left behind. Doctor Gross' destruction was far from over though as she concocted a parting gift for the last of the White Bears.

Faced with exile, knowing what she wrought, Doctor Gross left with these parting words, "For too long you have looked upon my craft with disdain, a prickly thorn at your oh so pure side, but we shall see who will remain in the end. I curse your child, Minerva, to die a slow and painful death, one that you will be forced to watch in despair as you see it take your precious child as you have done to my future. A thorny demon will possess his arm, and will soon swallow him whole by his seventeenth birthday. Farewell you ungrateful cretins! May you never hear from me again." And with that, she swiftly left the isles, never to be seen again, leaving Minerva with dark visions of the future.

Minerva, with the weight of her people on her lone shoulders, was now faced with the fate of her child, doomed to be snatched away from life too soon.


End file.
